The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2) (28 page)

And suddenly, there was the admiral himself, in the corridor heading toward the officer’s mess.

“Good morning, admiral,” she said with a quick regulation salute.

“Commander!” he said brightly, returning a quick salute in return.

I went rigid beside her, still carrying my duffel and feeling very unprepared for inspection. If the Sarge could see me now, looking like this, while being addressed by the admiral, he would have tossed me out the nearest airlock!

Instead, the admiral held the door for us! I felt petrified.

This mess was entirely different from any enlisted mess hall I’d gotten chow in previously. It was so
quiet!
Sharply-dressed officers sat two to a table here and there and the room wasn’t very big. And, instead of a service line, they were served at their tables.

“Admiral, I’d like to introduce my son,” she said while turning to me. “Spacer First Class Dallas Garner. Dallas, this is Admiral Max Reynolds.”

I dropped my duffel and stood rigidly straight, staring straight ahead at the bulkhead with a sharp salute.

Admiral Reynolds nodded to Marjorie. “I’ll be damned. Marjorie, this is
your son
?”

“In the flesh, admiral.”

The admiral returned my salute smartly, then said, “At ease, son.”

I relaxed my posture with hands behind me, as Sarge had instructed us to do. “Thank you, sir!”

Admiral Reynolds laughed softly, smiling at Marjorie. “Sharp looking young man, Commander.”

“Thank you, admiral. I think so too. He’s fresh out of Gagarin.”

“Eh? That so? I will send my compliments to training command. Son, you look like the product of that adamantine son-of-a-bitch, Rodney Beckett. The very definition of a master sergeant.”

My eyes goggled and I quickly checked myself. The admiral
knew
the Sarge?

“Y—yes, Admiral. The Sarge—
Master Sergeant Becket
—was my senior drill instructor in basic.”

I think I flinched while speaking his name.

Admiral Reynolds checked his watch. “One hour to debrief. I’ll leave you to your free time, commander.” He nodded at me, though I was under no delusions about my own importance. This was about Marjorie. I almost saluted again but found myself nodding in return.

“Thank you, admiral,” she said.

After enjoying officer-grade food, I was sure enlisted meals would disappoint, but I didn’t much care.

After stowing my duffel, she took me to the observation lounge, and I got my first view of a UNSC warship. Two of them, in fact. I think I audibly gasped at the view out of the huge windows. There, nearest to us, was my assignment—the UNS Lexington. Two large, black score marks marred her starboard side.

“Mo—
Commander
! So the rumors are true? You’ve seen action?”

It was a statement, not a question.

She whispered, “Yes, son, the rumors are true. This isn’t common knowledge yet, but”—she checked her watch—“I’ll be at the debriefing in fifteen. Don’t repeat what I’m about to tell you to
anyone
.”

I nodded seriously.

“We engaged a mercenary ship that was armed with military ordnance. Navy missiles. That will be quite the fiasco. Some contractor out there is intercepting Navy munitions or selling them directly to mercenaries. In either case, we have a supply leak that has to be plugged.”

I gaped at the battle-damaged cruiser. “I can’t believe civilians did that. Did you blow them away?”

Marjorie stared at me for several seconds. “They got away. The ship was pushing heavy acceleration and . . . I can’t tell you any more than that. Keep it to yourself.”

I nodded, blinking slowly, exuding trust. Or, I hoped so.

“Got to go now. We’ll have time later. The Lex will be in the dock for a few weeks.”

* * * *

I didn’t like the idea of sitting around on Skydock for three weeks waiting for my assigned ship to be repaired. Not that I actually
sat
around
; I was put to work on both the station and the ship. Technically, I had made it—I was in space! But, station duty felt a lot like base duty. Under normal conditions, ground duty for a navy man was a career death sentence. But, here I was in space, so I couldn’t complain!

Time had a way of getting away from you when you get into a daily routine. Days turned into weeks. I hit the mess hall one day on my way to the gym and saw a new face—a girl sitting at a table in the corner by herself. I grabbed some scrambled eggs, sausage gravy, and toast, and made my way toward her. She was picking at her food. She stood out as being the only person I’d seen since arriving who wasn’t in uniform.

“Mind if I join you, ma’am?”

That startled her; she flinched.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you,” I said.

“Uh, it’s okay. Sh—sure, have a seat.”

I set my tray on the small table and pulled out the chair. “Thanks. I’m Dallas.”

“Jazdie,” she said and reached over the table with her hand. I shook it.

“Nice grip . . . Jazdie,” I said, brows furrowed with surprise.

She sighed. “I grew up on a farm,” as if that explained everything.

“A farmer, eh? Where abouts. . . .”

“Luna City.”

“. . .
oh
,” I said, surprised again. This girl was interesting. “Grew up there, you say?” I said between bites and sips of coffee.

Jazdie held her two hands in front of her, made fists, then dropped them into her lap with a sigh. “I thought I knew myself . . . Dallas. But, after recent events, I don’t know. . . .”

Surprised by her candor, I wasn’t sure what to say. She seemed to need to talk to someone. She raised her hands in front of her again, made fists, and hit them together a few times while shaking her head. Then she looked at me right in the eyes, opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped. Instead, she took a bite of her food.

“Well, I’m
very
glad to meet you, Jazdie. I’m about to go on duty. Maybe we can—”

“
Whatever—
” she interrupted.

“Um . . . okay,” I said, frowning. Something was obviously troubling her and now my curiosity was piqued, but she thought it was a lame come-on. “I’ll be back for some chow at 1800. Uh, six o’clock. If you happen to be here. . . .”

She nodded apathetically.

She was sitting in the same chair when I arrived at 1805, tray of food on her table. She looked up when I entered the mess and then quickly looked away. I
knew
she was hoping to see me again. So, I got my food and—being a gentleman—asked again if I could join her. She nodded.

“So, Jazdie. A bit of an obvious question, but what brings you to the Skydock?”

She was eating this time—looked like a vegan tray, but I wouldn’t know. She raised her eyes at me while chewing. “I came in on the Lexington. I’m a witness to a crime.”

“A crime? Wasn’t expecting
that
,” I said while twirling spaghetti around my fork. “The Lex is my assignment. I’m fresh up from Gagarin. Uh, boot camp, so to speak.”

I noticed that she was flexing her left fist while eating with a fork in her right hand. Looked like she had PTSD. I couldn’t relate but you hear stories.

“Look, Jazdie, I can tell you’ve been through something tough.”

“
What do you know?
” she said in a loud whisper.

I held my hands up in what I hoped was a calming gesture. “I just wanna help.”

She started crying. I was about to reach out to her hand when she slammed her fist on the table, causing all the plates and dining-ware to rattle. A few spacers at nearby tables looked at us.

“What
happened
to you out there?”

“I was grilled by your
boss
for three hours. I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Oh, that must have been the debriefing. Were you
there
? When the Lexington was attacked?”

I realized I’d completely ignored her request . . . but this was important.

“I don’t know about an attack. When I got to that ship, it was already damaged. I’m talking about that bastard, Drake, and his crew,” she said, nearly spitting out the words with rage.

“Drake? Was that the hostile who fired on the Lexington?”

“I
killed
him with my bare hands,” she growled in a low voice. “Before he was swept out of the airlock with everyone else. Like I told your boss. But
I
did it.
I
killed him. And I don’t know how.” She was staring at her fists with a look of horror.

“Jazdie, I think I can help.”

“Sure, whatever. Let me guess, you want to show me something in your
cabin
?” she said with thick sarcasm.

“Not at all,” I said. Then I picked up my unused spoon, held it over the table where she could clearly see, and bent it with one hand.

Jazdie grabbed it out of my hand, turned it over and over, and nodded her head. “Okay, so you’re not exactly normal . . .
either
?”

“No, I—”

She bent the spoon back to its original shape and dropped it on the table. “Neither am I. How can we do that?” she whispered with a mix of conspiratorial fear and anger. “I didn’t know I could do that until . . . on the ship. . . .”

I shifted in my chair, wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Jazdie, have you ever heard the name . . .
Decatur
?”

“No. Who the hell is that?”

“‘
What
the hell is that’, you mean,” I said.

Jazdie closed her eyes, slowly, as if counting to ten, and said, “I am not in the . . .
fucking mood
. . . for games.” When she opened them again, her stare was a blaze of fury.

“Jesus Christ, would you calm down? I’m just here to talk. I’m not the admiral and not this . . .
Drake
. . . guy.”

She broke eye contact, turned away.

“Okay?”

“Alright. Fine!” she said and started to get up.

“Wait,” I said, reaching over to her arm.

She slapped my hand away. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch—”

“Look, Decatur is a robot. An AI.
It
did this to us.”

She stopped, set her tray back down on the table, and slid back into the chair. “I’m listening.”

“Everyone was gassed on Earth by the AI. Somehow, it rewrote our DNA. Everyone’s DNA. Took out the violent tendencies in most people. Took out ambition, sex drive. Replaced that with a desire to work harder. Put in more hours. Be more productive.”

“
What?
I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Jazdie said, a bit more calmly this time.

I nodded. “It’s true. Not a secret. But it gets worse. Most men were chemically castrated, too.”

“Castrated? What does that mean?”

I looked at Jazdie for a moment. How old was she, really? “Ability to reproduce.”

“Ugh! You mean they cut off—”

“No! No. Chemical means it affects sperm production. Prevents. Interrupts. Everything else still . . . works.”

“Blecht. Not what I wanted to hear right now.”

“Sorry.”

Jazdie paused, looking at me. “Sorry. Don’t mean to be so bitchy.”

“It’s okay.”

“So what does any of that have to do with bending spoons?”

I looked down at my hands, unconsciously. “Side effects. The DNA manipulation included some positive benefits, too. Coordination (for productivity). Longevity (we think). Stronger immune system. Stamina. In some cases,
strength
.”

“But I grew up on the Moon,” Jazdie said pointedly.

“Born there, or just grew up there?”

Her eyes grew wide. “I was born on Earth.”

I nodded, smiled.

“That explains a lot,” she said.

“Including the destruction of Silicon Valley, and the attempt to blow up M.I.T.”

“I thought that nuke was set off by terrorists?” she said.

I shook my head. “Retaliation. For the AI. For messing with our genes. Most people blame Americans for it. The evidence points that way.”

“So, does that mean, they killed the AI? Was it there in Silicon Valley?”

“No, I don’t think so. The second bomb was interrupted before it could go off. Not many civilians know this, and I probably shouldn’t be telling you, but, it was not intercepted by the authorities, and not by the military, either. We were told during AIT . . . to stave off the rumors on ship. The scuttlebutt says the AI must have stopped it.”

“What’s AIT?” Jazdie asked.